Today is my mother‘s 95th birthday. There may be some difference of opinion on this. She died in 2006. But be that as it may, it’s still her birthday. A pastoral colleague of mine once wrote:

“Sometimes loved ones who have journeyed beyond the veil
Come back unexpectedly
Bursting through the doors of our hearts without knocking.
Their sudden presence can be invoked by
An image,
A word,
A scent,
A taste,
A calendar date,
Or the simple randomness of the universe”.
(Kevin Buchanan, 2023/04/18)

I know what he means. A daughter’s flaky pie crust made with my mother’s recipe (her secret was Crisco) brings her to life again. I remember how she used to say that if you have to brag on yourself you can’t be very good. She always encouraged me to look gif the good in everyone and that if I don’t like someone it’s probably because I see a reflection myself in them. Her tongue could get all twisted up as she mispronounced words. She loved fried green tomatoes, sweet tea, and my father. Most of all, she loved me.

A Jewish friend of mine introduced me to a custom of their faith. A small stone is placed on the marker that proclaims to the living and to the universe the loved are not forgotten.

Today my was my mother’s 95th birthday. I left her a rose.